


Always Remember

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missed Chances, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same story as in 'Never Forget', told from Marco's POV. Marco thinks about what he has lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [funfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfan/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Second posting and still not near my comfort zone, but I'm getting closer, I think. I wanted to wait, but I guessed that somehow I kinda 'owe' Marco to tell his POV, as well. Please let me know if you like it!
> 
> Also not beta read because my poor beta still has so many stories of mine to read, so please, be gentle again...
> 
> Dear funfan, this is for you again, because every single chapter of your stories always make my days and I love reading your fics!
> 
> Dear sterekmess, this is for you, because you read 'Never Forget', although it was out of your comfort zone, as well, but you decided to give it a try, nonetheless. Most readers I know wouldn't do that.
> 
> Dear annbvb, this is dedicated to you, as well, although I can't add you to the gifts, but I want to say thank you to you for your wonderful comment and the honor of translating my little story into Russian. Please, feel free to translate this one, too, if you like it!

Marco will always remember how Mario looked like as he stood before the window of his room in his parent's house, watching him leave.

He sits at his desk, listening to the radio and stares at the white paper lying before him on the desk, but, he doesn't see the paper, but Mario standing in his room by the window, looking at him; and he feels all of the strong emotions again he had felt as he saw the love of his life standing there, the sun shining on him like a halo.

Marco stood at the door, ready to leave and let Mario go to Brazil to play the World Cup turning around for a last quick glance and a last whispered goodbye.

The sight greeting his eyes almost knocked him out and took his breath away.

Marco remembers every little tiny thing of that view so clearly and he knows that he will remember it forever and never forget, even when he's gray and old. Mario stood there in all his astonishing handsome beauty and Marco knows for sure that he will never see something as breathtaking and beautiful as Mario was in this special heartbreaking moment.

Mario just stood there at the window, a shy and uncertain smile ghosting over his sweet mouth and a happy and wistful expression in his beautiful eyes making them shine and even more beautiful than they already were. He was a happy young man, ready to fly to Brazil and let his dream come true, their passionate night had been wonderful and his happiness was wrapped around him like Marco's arms had been wrapped around his body only few minutes ago.

Marco felt as if somebody had punched him in his stomach and all he could do was saying:

 _“You have no idea how beautiful you are.”_ and then – turn around and flee from the one being he loved more than anything else, even more than his beloved football.

They didn't see each other again after that night and Mario flew to Brazil, played against the other teams, fought his way through every match with single-minded determination and shot the most important goal of the whole competition – the one and only goal that made Germany the champion of the entire world again – after twenty-four years of waiting and hoping and suffering.

Marco didn't miss any match of the German team – of _his_ team - watched them on TV with his nails dug into his palms every single second of every match, hoping and fighting with his teammates and friends in his mind while his heart screamed with pain and helpless anger that he should be there, too, fighting with them, suffering with them and celebrating with them.

Marco watched his beloved Mario shoot the goal and this was the moment he realized that everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. Mario would always be the one player who had shot _his_ team to victory, he would always be the champion and Marco would always be the one teammate who had had to stay behind, the one who had become injured only few weeks before this earth-shattering victory that had set the whole German nation on fire.

Marco will always remember how he sat there, watching the ball fidgeting in the net, frozen in place, counting down the minutes until the game was over and Germany had won the final match and the Cup as a result, as well; his mind filled with relief and his eyes filled with tears of joy and sorrow while his heart was broken with the realization what he had lost.

The moment of Germany's victory was also the moment he lost the one and only thing that meant more to him than anything else, even more than winning the Cup for Germany himself would have meant to him – his wonderful shiny boyfriend Mario.

After twenty-four years of waiting _his_ team had been the one that had finally won the Cup and Marco knew that they had won the Cup for every single teammate missing the competition, for him and for all of the others who had had to stay behind.

He should have been there with his team, sharing their joy and excitement, but instead, he sat alone before the TV, silent tears rolling slowly over his face, because Marco also knew so well what it meant in the end that _his_ team eventually had succeeded. No football team has ever won the Cup twice one after the other, at least no male football team. The chances for him to win the Cup are nil and he knows that Mario knows that, as well. They had dreamed this wonderful dream together and it took only seconds to let this dream break into a million sharp pieces, every piece of their shattered dream stabbing him right in his heart and twisting around again and again, so the pain became worse with every day that passed.

Marco will always remember how they lay in his own or in Marco's bed, talking about Brazil, making plans and fantasizing about the matches with happy smiles on their faces, but Marco had been awoken from their shared dream the hard way, while Mario had still been dreaming with a happy smile on his so beloved handsome face.

Of course, he had tried to comfort Marco, he had held him and kissed him and said all those things everyone had said to him to make it better, but it only had gotten worse with every single word.

Marco will always remember how it had felt like to smile and grin and nod as widely that he thought his jaw would dislocate the very next second, assuring everyone that he would be fine and that it didn't matter.

But, it _did_ matter. He smiled and grinned, even though all he wanted to do was lock himself away and cry his heart out, to scream and bang his head against the next wall. His cheeks and his lips hurt from all of these faked smiles and grins and his throat hurt so much because of the big lump filling it completely that he was choking, thinking the pain would never ever fade again.

Even now, everyone keeps telling him that there will be another time, another chance, but Marco knows that they are wrong. There won't be another time or another chance. They all lie to him and he knows it and he knows that the others know that they are lying, too. No one is able to imagine how he feels and no one even tries to do so and Marco will never tell them how it really feels to be the one who was left behind. Not his family, not his friends, not anybody else and certainly not Mario.

He keeps smiling and grinning and he behaves as normal as he's able to and he is determined to go on as if nothing bad had happened, no matter the cost.

Marco knows that everyone might think that he's jealous of Mario but he isn't jealous of Mario because their dream has become real for him at all. He doesn't envy Mario for having won the Cup. If anyone in this whole wide world deserves to be the one who shot this one final goal, then it is his beloved Mario. If anyone deserves to be a champion, then it is the young man with the boyish smile and the wonderful shining eyes and whom he loves more than life itself.

Marco is happy for Mario. He is happy for him and he is absolutely pleased and delighted that their dream came true for the love of his life. He would never ever envy him for that.

But, he knows that he also can't be with him any longer. Mario will always be the champion and Marco will always be the one who had missed the chance of his life, the one who had had the bad luck.

They are so young and Marco knows for sure that it will destroy their love someday. Both of them are too young to live with their shattered dreams and Marco doesn't want their love turn into hate somewhere in the future. He doesn't want to wake up next to Mario and find out that there's nothing left than bitterness, anger and hate. Marco doesn't want to live with the lie that it doesn't matter to him, because it _does_ matter to him.

He can't live with that lie and all he can do right now is to leave the love of his life and set him free, giving him the chance to go on and find someone who is able to give him what Marco can't give him anymore.

Marco will always remember everything they have had together, he will always remember how it felt to hold Mario tight, to kiss him and to make love to him. He will always remember Mario's wonderful laughter, the closeness, friendship and love they shared, but he also knows that their time together is over now, no matter how much he wished it wasn't so.

And so Marco picks up the pencil with trembling fingers and tears in his eyes and begins to write on the white paper:

_'I'm sorry for hurting you, Mario, but I can't be with you any longer. I wish you all the best for your future. I will always love you, but I just – can't. In love, Marco.'_

while Lana Del Ray's soft, velvet-like voice coming from the radio fills his room:

_“Kiss me hard before you go - summertime sadness. I just wanted you to know that baby, you the best...”_

**Author's Note:**

> The song mentioned at the end of this fic is the song: 'Summertime Sadness' from the album 'Born To Die' from the singer Lana Del Ray. I listened to this song while driving back at home from work tonight and I thought it appropriate for this fic somehow.
> 
> Some of you might think that this fic is kind of pathetic, but I don't think so. I know that there were other footballers who had to stay behind, as well, but not one of them became injured as short before the competition as Marco. I can't even imagine how he must have felt like, but I think that it would have been even worse, if Marco and Mario actually had been a couple and I do believe that he didn't show his true feelings about the chance of his life he had to miss in public. I also wanted to make clear that Marco didn't break up with Mario because of simple envy or jealousy, so I simply had to write his POV, soon.  
> I also have a big problem by now, because I'm a huge fan of happy endings and now I have to think about a way to make them happy with each other again, so there probably will be another (LONGER) fic somewhere next in the future.  
> Please, let me know if you would appreciate that.


End file.
